


Obligations

by K_Hanna_Korossy



Category: Starsky & Hutch
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-01
Updated: 2015-09-01
Packaged: 2018-04-18 03:11:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4690070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/K_Hanna_Korossy/pseuds/K_Hanna_Korossy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The arrival of Starsky's brother tests his obligations to job, partner, and family.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Obligations

Written: 1997

First published in "A Small Circle of Friends #2" (1997)

Based on the Star Trek episode, “Journey to Babel”

     "I can't believe we're stuck with babysitting duty again," Starsky growled as he got out and slammed the door of the Torino.

     Hutch raised an eyebrow at the action; Starsky fussed at him all the time, but he had to be really irate to take his anger out on his precious car.  "Coordinating security for the Union's National Convention isn't just any kind of 'babysitting duty', Starsk.  I think it's supposed to be an honor."  He held the door of the hotel open for his partner.

     Starsky strode in, unmollified.  "Yeah, well, I wish they'd 'honor' us sometime when Nancy wasn't going to be here for the weekend."  He punched the elevator button with half-hearted annoyance.  "Can't even wear m'jeans," he muttered under his breath as an afterthought.  

     His partner came up behind him, grinning.  "Somehow, I don't think the Chief cared very much about whether he was intruding on your love life."

     Starsky glared at him stormily before stomping onto the just-arrived elevator.

     Hutch's grin widened.  "Well, look at it this way, Starsky, now you get to spend the weekend with me, instead."

     Starsky's response turned his grin into a loud laugh.

     The headquarters for convention security was in one of the hotel suites.  A uniformed cop met them at the door and pointed them to one of the side doors.  The room was empty except for a large desk covered with paper, and the imposing figure who sat behind it. 

     "Detective Hutchinson, Starsky," Chief Ryan greeted them with a nod of the head, "Dobey tells me that you've been in his department for two years and that you're his best men."  Hutch blushed slightly and Starsky grinned, but Ryan didn't pause for their reactions.  "Well, you better be, because what we need here is the best."  He reached over to retrieve a pile of folders from the corner of his desk as Starsky and Hutch exchanged glances.  

     They were both thinking the same thing.  Starsky spoke up.  "Uh, excuse me, Chief, but isn't this just routine babysittin' detail?  I mean, show of concern and all..."

     His voice tapered off as Ryan squinted up at him.  Starsky got the distinct impression the other was sizing him up and not liking what he saw.  "'Babysitting detail'?" he asked sharply.  "Let me tell you, Hutchinson," he pointed at the brunet, who opened his mouth, then silently shut it again.  Hutch looked pained.  "This convention is extremely important to the city.  We have delegations coming from all over the country, over a 1,000 people, and it's our job to make sure that nothing goes wrong.  We've already gotten several threats, one bomb scare, and half-a-dozen changes of schedule to try to insure the representatives' safety.  These are not all popular people, detective."  

     Ryan's frown deepened with every sentence, and by the time he finished, Starsky looked severely chastised.  Hutch still looked pained.  

     "Now, unless you have anymore **complaints** , detective, I suggest we get down to business."  He waited for the chorus of subdued "yessirs" before handing each man a folder.  "I'll assume you've already gone over all the timetables and maps and travel routes that Dobey briefed you on.  These contain any additional information you'll need: lists of the delegations and their members, room assignment, profiles.  If you have any further questions, you can bring them to me or Captain Dobey.  Is that clear?"  Once again, he got a pair of quick acknowledgements, and he nodded.  "Any questions?"   Two shakes of the head.  "Good.  You have today to go over those and do last-minute checks.  I'll see you at the commencing reception tonight at 1900."  His attention turned from them back to the desk.

     Starsky and Hutch glanced at each other again, confirming they were dismissed.  They beat a hasty, grateful retreat.

     Hutch paused outside the door to lean with his back against the hallway wall.  "Whew.  No wonder even Dobey's scared of him."

     Starsky's docility was already beginning to wear off.  "Yeah.  I'd hate to get on his bad side."  He grinned suddenly.  "'Course, it was 'Hutchinson' who couldn't keep his mouth shut."

     Hutch straightened, lifting a finger in warning.  "Now wait a minute..."

     His words faded away at the sudden change in Starsky's expression.  The dark eyes grew round and the grin was replaced by some look that Hutch couldn't quite read but that seemed to be somewhere between shock, delight, and dismay.  He'd never seen anything like it before in the five years he'd known Starsky.  

     "Starsk?"

     His partner was staring down the hallway, and now started in that direction, seemingly oblivious to the blond.  Hutch turned to see what had so surprised his normally unflappable partner.  

     The hallway had a number of people in it; the delegations had already begun to arrive for the weekend and there were small groups of people scattered along the hall, settling arrangements.  Starsky's attention seemed to be directed at the closest of the groups.  As Hutch studied the four men standing together, one of them turned toward them and Hutch suddenly knew what had rattled his partner so.  Even if he hadn't seen the face before in pictures scattered throughout Starsky's apartment and the one in his wallet, the resemblance would've been unmistakable.

     "Nicky?"  

     Hutch heard Starsky's soft, disbelieving voice as he got closer to the group.  The man who had turned in their direction fixed on Starsky and his own face mirrored the expression that Hutch had seen on his partner's.  

     "Dave!"

     Nicholas Marvin Starsky stepped away from the group and toward them.  The two brothers stopped a good two feet apart, staring disbelievingly at each other, before finally moving to embrace awkwardly.  But it was several long seconds before they broke apart to stand and stare at each other again.  Starsky finally half-turned, looking a little dazed.  

     "Hutch, this is–"

     "Nick, I know," Hutch smiled tentatively, extending a hand.  He wasn't wholly sure what to make of the brothers' reaction to each other, but the younger Starsky seemed nice enough.  Nick took his hand, meeting Hutch's eyes and grinning for the first time, but Starsky couldn't seem to stop staring at his younger sibling.  

     "Hutch, I've heard a lot about you.  Seems all Davey ever talks about when he calls," Nick grinned.

     "Nicky, what're you doing here?" Starsky hadn't seemed to have heard a word either of them had said and had already forgotten all about his partner.  His voice sounded carefully neutral, but Hutch could hear the strain in it.  "You never mentioned anything about comin' out here to visit."

     Nick squirmed a little.  "Well, I'm not exactly visitin', Dave, I just kinda got this assignment, and–"

     "Assignment?  What're you talkin' about, last I heard, you were still workin' at Uncle 'Fredo's.  What assignment?"  Hutch's eyes were fixed on his partner now, senses on alert.  He knew things were strained between the brothers after their separate childhoods, but that didn't fully explain the tense wariness he perceived so strongly in Starsky.  Hutch was only amazed that Nick was apparently oblivious to it.

     Nicky straightened proudly.  "It's this private security company I just started  workin' for.  They're doin' the security for the New York union rep, so we're here for this convention."

     Starsky was beginning to loosen up a little, an uncertain smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.  "Security company?  Yeah?  I didn't know.  Didja hear that, Hutch?" he turned back to his partner.

     Hutch roused himself, surprised to be included in the conversation once more, but before he could respond, Starsky had already turned away from him to address his brother again.  "Hey, you gonna be free at all?  Have some time to catch up with your big brother?"  Hutch was fascinated by Starsky's rapid change of mood; he was learning all kinds of new things about his friend.  The on-guard "street" attitude had relaxed into the kind of sincere friendliness Starsky only showed his closest friends.   

     Nick grinned unsurely.  "Uh, yeah, I guess so, maybe after the conventions over.  They got us pretty busy 'til then."

     Starsky smiled.  "Okay, after.  Say," he glanced back at Hutch, "you know, me and Hutch are doin' the security detail for the convention.  Guess we'll all be workin' together."  The cheer was still a little forced, Hutch noted.  Starsky was trying, but there was apparently a lot to overcome.  And Nicky's evasiveness wasn't helping.  Hutch wasn't sure at all that he liked this younger Starsky.

     Nick didn't seem to notice the undercurrents.  "Yeah, guess we will.  Look, I'd better go," he said, stepping away.  Hutch noticed that the brothers hadn't been closer than arm's length since their initial embrace.  "I'll see ya later.  Nice to meet ya, Hutch," he included the blond in his good-bye wave, and walked off down the hall.

     Hutch stood and watched Starsky for a long moment.  The brunet didn't seem like he was inclined to move from where he stood, deep in thought, watching his brother's retreating figure.  Finally, Hutch placed a hand on his shoulder.  "Coming?  We have work to do."

     Starsky started.  "Hmm?  Oh, yeah."  His eyes met Hutch's and the touch of pride glimmering deep in the dark blue made his partner smile.  

     Hutch's stomach began to unknot a little.  There was more here than met the eye, but Starsky was okay and that was all Hutch cared about at the moment.  The rest would wait.  They began to walk slowly up the corridor away from the crowd.  

     "Hutch, I haven't seen Nick since I left New York.  I don't know..."  Starsky's voice was subdued, his lingering uneasiness admitted to Hutch alone.  

     Hutch's hand automatically settled on his friend's shoulder.  "Yeah," was all he said.  After a few minutes of silence, they began to discuss the job ahead of them.  

     The day was a long, boring series of security checks, reviewing timetables, and practicing diplomacy with the arriving delegations.  While not yet officially accountable for security measures until the convention started the next morning and technically became the city's responsibility, the two detectives went over the details again and again until they were fully prepared for the coming weekend.  Finally as evening approached, they broke off to run home and get ready for the reception that evening.  By prearrangement, Hutch had stashed his stuff at Starsky's place so they left Hutch's car and went together in the Torino.

     The trip went quietly.  Starsky was silent, deep in thought, and Hutch watched Starsky, deep in thought.  Nicky had tactfully not been mentioned all day.  Hutch wasn't about to bring him up before Starsky wanted to talk about it, but the silence puzzled him.  He knew most of what there was to know about Starsky, and knew the same was true for him.  So what was going on here that he'd so obviously missed?  

     The party was the typical bureaucratic affair, the kind both detectives usually hated.  They were technically off-duty and not required to come, but Chief Ryan had made it clear that he expected them to be there, and such a "request" was not to be rebuffed without good reason.  Besides, although Starsky would never have admitted it, he wanted to keep an eye on Nicky.

     The room was packed with elegant people, probably much more than it was meant to hold, but no one seemed to care.  Because of the business nature of the reception, none of the men had brought their wives, and the unions attracted few women.  The absence of female company only served to make an already boring affair nearly excruciating.  

     But Starsky would've been grateful for a little boredom as he stifled the urge to bounce on the balls of his feet for the twentieth time that evening.  His earlier tenseness had not let up, making him feel tightly wound and edgy.  Seeing Nick had rattled him, and it was hard to put it out of his mind and concentrate on his job.  He took a deep breath and tried not to look as out-of-place and unhappy as he felt as he scanned the room looking for any sign of trouble, or his brother.  Or both.  

     Hutch, who seemed born to such uppercrust affairs and was enjoying every moment of it, nevertheless stayed next to him, keeping him silent, sympathetic company.  He knew Nick was still bothering Starsky but finally decided most of the uneasiness the other demonstrated had more to do with their setting than the earlier meeting.  It had always fascinated him that his normally unflappable partner who could be in full command of a barroom full of punks, became so uncomfortable and intimidated in a roomful of high society types.  Add to that having to wear a tuxedo, and he was positively lost.  It was always then, ironically, when it struck Hutch the most how much Starsky had on these people.  Wisdom, intelligence, and the most gentle manner Hutch had ever experienced, hidden behind a rough exterior and careless manner.  He'd take a David Michael Starsky over a dozen of those stuffed shirts any day.  Which, Hutch thought smiling to himself, was perhaps one of the reasons he kept Curly around.  

     A noise on his side of the room drew his attention, and he abruptly poked his partner in the ribs with an elbow.  Starsky winced and turned, ready to complain about the behavior of some partners.  Perhaps the night wouldn't have to be a total loss.  Then he saw what Hutch was pointing at.

     A good ten feet away, near one of the refreshment tables, stood Nicky, also in a tux, and another man.  They were arguing, voices and tempers rising even as Starsky watched.  Those around them were just beginning to realize and stopped to stare.  

     Starsky took a deep breath and determinedly strode towards the table, unconsciously shedding his timid uneasiness and dropping into the take-charge cop mode.  People noticed and stepped aside to clear the way for him.  He knew without looking that Hutch was right behind him, keeping pace.  

     He just reached the table when the other man, a florid-looking redhead who's face nearly matched his hair, snarled and raised a fist to throw a punch at Nick.

     The Starskys acted nearly as one.  Nicky put up an arm to block the blow, letting his attacker glance off him and fall back, right into the detective's arms.  Starsky then locked the redhead's arms behind his back, effectively immobilizing him.  Hutch stepped in between the two arguers, putting another barrier between them, icy blue eyes flicking between the two men.  He took charge at once, grabbing hold of Nick's arm.  

     "Okay, gentlemen, shall we take this out into the hall?"

     His tone was pleasant enough, but the grip was of iron and the jaw was set.  Neither Nicky nor the other man argued, though the younger Starsky cast an aggrieved look back.  His brother ignored him.  Despite the blond's obvious anger, Starsky trusted his partner to handle the situation that he wasn't sure he could trust himself with.  

     Out in the hallway, Hutch abruptly let go of Nicky, who took an unconscious step back, rubbing his arm.  "Hey, you didn't have to be so rough.  I didn't do anything."

     "I don't care."  Hutch's voice held no sympathy.  He shifted a little so he could take both men in at one glance.  Starsky let go of his charge and eased back into the shadows to watch.  "I don't care who started it or what it was about or who's at fault.  It's not my job to play negotiator.  But I will **not** let any fights start or 'situations' develop here this weekend, or I will personally see to it that you find yourselves in a nice, comfy cell for the duration.  You got it?"

     The red-faced man's flush grew deeper.  "Say, what gives you the right–"

     Hutch's badge was out in one smooth motion.  "LAPD.  You have a problem with that?"  His voice was still quiet and smooth.  Starsky gave a faint smile at the fear it kindled in the bigger man's eyes.  

     "No.  Excuse me," the florid man said shortly, trying to maintain some dignity.  He sidled quickly past Hutch, who didn't step aside to make room for him, and disappeared down the hall.

     Hutch watched him go for a few seconds, then turned back to a grinning Nick.  

     "Hey, Hutch, that was fantastic!  You sure told him," the younger man enthused.

     Starsky, watching his brother ever since they'd come out into the hallway, stepped forward to answer as Hutch simultaneously retreated a step to make way for him.  "Is that all this is to you, Nick, some kinda powerplay?"

     Nick's smile vanished.  "Hey, don't lay that on me, Davey.  He started the whole thing.  Those Chicago reps think they own the place."

     "So ignore him.  Whaddaya think this is, the streets back home?  You have a responsibility now.  You're just lucky Hutch and me broke it up before–"

     "Before what?  I handled it?  What, does bein' your brother mean I have different standards to live up to here?"  

     Hutch saw a slight tremor go through Starsky's shoulders, and immediately moved in.  "No, Nick, it just means that you're going to have to behave yourself like everyone else here.  No fights, no arguments, not even a dirty look.  Being a Starsky's not going to let you get away with anything."

     Nick looked at the blond with disgust.  "Just don't forget I'm not **Detective Sergeant** Starsky."  With a sneer, he turned and walked away.  

     Hutch watched him leave, then blew out a deep breath, turning back to his partner.  Starsky looked tired and defeated.  Hutch's overwhelming instinct was to get him home and to bed, but their job wasn't done there yet.  Of course, they weren't both necessarily needed...  "Why don't you go home, get some sleep?  I can handle things here," he offered quietly.

     Weary blue eyes met his, warm with appreciation.  "Thanks."  Not just for the offer.

     Hutch nodded, touching the other's arm and receiving a pat on the stomach in return before Starsky turned and walked away.  Hutch watched him, concerned, until the other disappeared around a corner, then, sighing, turned back to the party with considerably less enthusiasm than before.  

     Knowing a second language was useful in that it gave you twice as many curses to work with.  Hutch went through all of them as he fought his way to wakefulness to answer an incessantly ringing telephone.  He squinted at the clock as he did.  3:17.  Wonderful.  He'd been asleep all of 45 minutes since getting home late from the party.

     "H'lo."  At least there was no need to try and sound polite.

     "Hutchinson, this is Dobey."

     "Cap'n, it's 3:17," Hutch protested, head dropping back in the pillow.  He knew it, he shouldn't have answered the phone.  

     "I've already called Starsky.  You both need to get down to the convention hotel right away."  Dobey's voice was completely business.  

     Hutch sat up.  "What's wrong."

     "There's been a murder."

     The hotel parking lot was huge, but the Torino was the first thing Hutch saw as he pulled in.  Parked at an angle right in front of the door as if the driver was in too much of a hurry to be neat, mars light still blinking.  Hutch drew up behind it, then hurried inside. 

     Dobey and Starsky were in the lobby, talking together as Hutch walked in.  The captain spied Hutch and motioned him over.

     Starsky looked as though he'd slept even less than his partner, but he nevertheless gave Hutch a slight welcoming grin as the blond joined them.  Hutch flashed him a hint of a responding smile, then turned seriously to Dobey.  

     "What's going on, Cap'n?"

     Dobey waved them to follow and strode to the elevator, talking as he went.  "It's one of the members of the Chicago delegation, not the representative himself.  A hotel staffer making a late night round found him in one of the stairwells.  His neck was broken," he looked significantly at Starsky and Hutch. 

     Hutch spoke up.  "No one heard or saw anything?"

     The captain shook his head.  "Not that we can find.  But we did receive a threat this morning at the station, promising to 'do anything necessary to keep the Chicago party from stopping the New York Resolution.'  We didn't take it anymore seriously than the other threats we've received, but it seems now that the two might be connected."

     Starsky nodded.  "What's the New York Resolution?"

     The elevator arrived at the floor and Dobey led the way off.  "It's the least popular of the current resolutions up for vote at the convention.  The New York representative introduced it and has been lobbying for it, and Chicago has been its leading opponent."

     Hutch took the lead again.  "Did the murder victim have anything to do with the resolution?"

     Dobey frowned.  "That's the strange part.  He was just a low-level assistant to the representative, no sway at all.  The representative himself would've been the most effective target."

     Hutch shrugged.  "Maybe this is just a warning."

     Dobey turned left into a small stairwell landing filled with a half-dozen people, mostly cops, then stepped aside to make room for the two detectives.  "The victim's name was James Teller," he said.  "Time of death was approximately between 11pm and 1am."

     Hutch glanced down at the body sprawled over the bottom few steps, then stopped and stared.  The victim was a large man, stocky, with bushy red hair.  The face was pale now, but it was unquestionably the same man he and Starsky had stopped from hitting Nick.  Hutch looked up at Starsky and saw his shock mirrored in the other's face.  Starsky swallowed, looking down at the body once more, then up at Hutch again.  Hutch took the cue.  Taking the Captain's arm, he led him to a relatively deserted corner of the landing.  "Captain, we might have a suspect."

     Dobey looked up at him with interest.  "Who?"

     "Well, uh," Hutch looked back to see his partner squatting by the body, staring at it.  "Y'see, Starsky's little brother Nick is here with the New York delegation, sorta playing bodyguard.  And, uh, Starsk and I broke up a fight between him and the victim at the party last night."

     The captain's eyes narrowed and he was silent for a moment, staring unreadably first at Starsky, then at the blond.  Finally, he took a breath.  "Okay, Hutchinson, I'm going to take you and Starsky off the case.  You can brief–"

     "No." 

     Both men looked up in surprise at Starsky who had, meanwhile, come up behind them in time to hear Dobey's decision.

     "Starsky–" the captain began.  

     "Cap'n, **we** have to do this.  We've been goin' over the details all week now, you can't get anyone up to speed in time to replace us."

     Dobey looked up at the blond but saw that Hutch would stay out of it for the moment, not willing to contradict his partner just yet.  "Starsky, Hutchinson informs me that your brother was arguing with the victim at the reception last night.  That makes him your only suspect at the moment."  He was pushing, but that was his job.  He needed to see if Starsky could handle it.

     Starsky's eyes flinched, but he looked at Hutch, then back at his boss.  "I know, Cap'n.  We'll check it out.  And if he did it... we'll do what we havta ."  

     Dobey looked at him closely, then at Hutch.  The blond had also been silently studying his partner, but now met the captain's eyes and nodded agreement.  Dobey hesitated.  He'd only had these two in his department for two years, and one of those years they were with Mike Ferguson.  Dobey already trusted them more than any of the other men who currently were under him, and he had faith in their judgment, but he also never forgot how young they were.  He still kept them out of some things for their own good.  He'd rarely seen Starsky look so determined, though, and Hutch seemed to think they could handle it...  Dobey reluctantly nodded.  "All right," he said finally.  "I want regular reports, though."  The last was wishful thinking and he knew it.  Those two only reported to him when they wanted to.  Still, he got two serious nods of agreement, and he grudgingly left them to go home.  Perhaps he would have time to get some more sleep before he had to be in the office tomorrow.  He just wished he could get Starsky's expression out of his mind.

     "Where do you wanna start, Starsk?" Hutch asked quietly.  He knew the right answer, but was willing to let his partner call the shots for a while, perhaps make it a little bit easier for the other.  They'd been partners nearly two years now, known each other for several before that, and Hutch had no doubts about where they both stood with the other.  But this was all new territory and for the first in a long time, he had no idea how Starsky would react.  For now, Hutch was walking on eggshells.

     Starsky had pulled himself together, shadowed eyes the only sign of his troubled thoughts.  Impatiently, he said, "You know where we start.  We havta talk t'Nicky."  Looking at his partner, his expression softened in recognition of the other's concern.  Half-smiling, he reached out to touch the other's arm, a silent gesture of appreciation and reassurance.  Hutch nodded, one corner of his mouth turning up.  Together, they turned toward Nick's room.

     The younger Starsky did not take well to being woken up before dawn.  He yelled at them to go away until Hutch identified himself.  There was some muttered grumbling they couldn't make out, almost making Starsky grin, then the door lock rattled and the door was yanked open by a sleepy-looking Nick, dressed in shorts and an undershirt.  On seeing the two detectives, he groaned and leaned on one arm resting on the doorjamb.

     "Okay, what did I do this time?"

     Again, Hutch instinctively took the lead.  "Nick, we need to talk to you for a few minutes." 

     Nick made a face, straightening a little.  "Aw, can't this wait 'til morning?  I was up late last night."

     Starsky and Hutch exchanged glances.  "How late?" Hutch asked.

     " 'Difference does it make?  After my **brother** here sent me to my room," he snorted at Starsky, who stood unmoving, "I stayed in and watched some movies.  Probably went to bed around two or somethin'."  Nick was beginning to get suspicious.  "Hey, what's goin' on?"

     Hutch glanced at Starsky again, who was watching his brother, face impassive.  He hesitated, then turned back to Nick.  "There was a murder last night.  The guy you were fighting with at the reception last night, as a matter of fact.  Somebody broke his neck."

     A cop with experience could usually tell from a person's reaction whether they were telling the truth or not.  Hutch was not as good at reading people as his partner was, but Nicky wasn't too hard to interpret.  The news seemed of no surprise to him, but also apparently of no interest.  "Yeah?"  

     Starsky spoke up for the first time, his voice tinged with fatigue that had nothing to do with their long night.  "Yeah.  Nicky, you were the one fighting with him last night.  That makes you the top suspect.  Do y'have any proof that you were here all last night?"

     To their surprise, Nicky laughed.  "Well, well, so I'm the suspect.  This just gets better all the time, doesn't it, Davey?  Wouldn't Ma be proud to see us now."

     The mention of his mother struck a nerve in Starsky.  His whole body went rigid, eyes glittering.  Before Hutch could react, his partner had two handfuls of Nick's shirt in his fists, face inches from his brother's.  "This isn't a game, Nick.  And if I havta call Ma and tell her I arrested you for murder–"

     Nick was undaunted.  "- she'll never forgive you," he finished smugly.

     Hutch flinched at the words, knowing it would hurt his tender-hearted partner severely.  Anger and protectiveness aroused, he jerked the smirking younger man out of his brother's suddenly loose grasp, shoving him against the door.  Off-balance, Nick stumbled as the door swung open behind him, falling against a chair.  Hutch pushed him into it none-too-gently, then, voice cold, began questioning, silently daring Nick to resist, peripherally aware of Starsky quietly retreating to a corner to listen.  For once, Nicky seemed perceptive enough to know not to push, and sullenly answered the questions put to him.  

     Some time later, every necessary bit of ground covered, Hutch snapped his notebook shut and glared at Nick.  "That's it for now.  We're not going to take you in, but don't disappear.  We'll have another talk later."  Not waiting for a response, he looked up toward his partner for the first time and was surprised to see that Starsky wasn't in the room.  Without a backward glance, he strode out the door, his mind only on his friend.  Starsky was too good a cop not to stick around for a questioning no matter how difficult it was; he had to have slipped out at the end.  

     Sure enough, Hutch found him not too far away, in one of the plush chairs in the mini-lobby by the elevator.  Starsky sat bonelessly, one hand half-covering a haggard face.  Hutch wondered abruptly if he'd been right in supporting Starsky in staying on the case.  It was costing his partner dearly, and Hutch wasn't sure he was willing to pay that price.  On the other hand, if it were his own sister who was suspect, Hutch knew that he could've never left it alone, either, not trusting anyone else to do it right.  So they were stuck with it, whether Starsky could handle it or not.  Leaving Hutch the responsibility to make sure he could.

     "Starsk?" he said softly, resisting the urge to crouch beside his partner.  Instead, he put a hand on the other's shoulder, noting it was no longer tense, only sagging with fatigue and dejection.  

     Dark eyes rose to meet his without reluctance.  "He was right, Hutch."  The voice was so quiet, he almost seemed to be speaking to himself.  "Ma never would forgive me.  She always did..." his voice trailed off as the blond's hand tightened.  Starsky sighed deeply.  "Let's go home, huh?"

     Hutch nodded.  Further investigation could wait until morning.  They didn't say another word as they went down to their cars.  But Hutch didn't let go until they reluctantly parted company and each turned toward home.

     It was obvious from the very start that it was not going to be a good day.

     "Nicky's gone."  Starsky's voice was flat, almost as though he'd expected the new turn of events.  

     "What?!"  Hutch stared at him disbelievingly, his hand frozen half-raised to his mouth.  He'd been halfway through his toast as he'd met his partner at the hotel the next morning. 

     Starsky shook his head.  "He's not in his room and didn't show up for his work detail this mornin'.  Nobody saw him leave but he's not in the hotel."  

     Hutch winced.  He knew as well as his partner how badly that looked for Nick.  What a way to start a day.  Starsky seemed to be handling things, though, stopping to consult with a uniformed cop as Hutch stood and digested the news.  Family was still shaky ground, but being in the familiar territory of policework, Starsky had found sure footing again.  Hutch nodded.  "Everything else...?"

     "Seems to be okay," Starsky glanced around, gaze finally settling on his partner.  "One of us should be able to handle convention detail for a while," he added quietly.  

     Hutch didn't like the idea; Starsky seemed to be all right, but he was under a lot of strain and the blond would've preferred him where he could look out for him.  But it made sense.  Both of them weren't needed for the easy morning schedule, and he couldn't blame Starsky for wanting to concentrate on looking for his brother.  "Okay," he nodded again.  "I can stay here and you go do some checking around.  But come back around noon so we can have time to go over the afternoon plans."

     Starsky grinned at him, the sun breaking out.  "Have fun," was all he said before striding off.

     Hutch got the message.  "Idiot," he murmured, smiling affectionately at the retreating figure's back.

     The morning was unproductive for Starsky; none of the others in the New York party knew anything, either about Nick or about Teller, and he turned up  nothing helpful at the station.  He was about to leave to rejoin Hutch when the call came in.  Dobey buzzed him, voice strained, to tell Starsky to get the phone.  Starsky picked up, curious and dreading all at once.

     "Starsky."

     "David?  It's me."

     "Nick!"  Starsky felt weak with relief.  "Where are ya?"

     There was a brief hesitation.  "I can't tell ya, David.  But can you meet me?  I have to talk t'you."  The voice sounded unnaturally uncertain for his usually aggressive brother.  Starsky's mind worked furiously.  And when had Nick ever called him 'David'?  "Nicky, what's goin' on?  Is someone makin' ya do this?"

     Another hesitation.  "No, David, it's just me.  Just come meet me and I'll tell you everything.  I'll call you later with when and where."

     Starsky opened his mouth to respond but there was a click and the line went dead.  He stared at the phone for a moment, then at Dobey who had been listening on another phone and had now come out to talk to him.  It took him a moment to find his voice.  "Cap'n, he's being held."

     Dobey frowned.  "What makes you think that?"  His expression clearly held doubts of Starsky indulging in wishful thinking.  

     Starsky shook his head.  "Look, Cap'n, I know Nicky and I aren't close and I haven't seen him for years.  But we were kids together and I **know** my brother.  There's something else goin' on."

     Dobey digested that, then nodded.  "All right.  Hutch should be able to cover the convention while you follow this.  You'd better go meet with your partner and fill him in, though."

     Starsky nodded, already grabbing his jacket.  "Thanks, Cap'n," he called back as he ran out the door.  

     The black man gave a sigh and waved a folder in resignation after him.

     Starsky parked the Torino in one of the specially reserved spots and went inside, deep in thought.  Despite finally feeling in his element, having an actual case to work on, doubts about his brother's innocence, worry for his involvement, the unresolved past all oppressed him, making him feel unexpectedly unsure.  He was looking forward to discussing things with Hutch and receiving the quiet advice and support he had come to rely on.  He had no doubts the blond could handle the convention by himself, or that Starsky could pull off the meet alone, even without back-up, but he still hated working apart.  He'd be very glad when this nightmare weekend was be over.  

     One of the uniforms told him that Hutch was on one of the upper floors checking something out, and gave Starsky a walkie-talkie to locate his partner.  Starsky stood and fiddled with the knobs, then tried it.

     "Starsky to Hutchinson, come in, please, over."

     Static.

     Starsky made a face.  Machines weren't his thing.  He adjusted the dial and tried again.  "Hutch, can you hear me?  Over."

     Still static.

     A twinge of uneasiness touched Starsky.  He checked everything, but all the settings seemed to be right.  Without knowing where he was going, he slowly walked toward the elevator, still trying the walkie-talkie.  Nothing.  No answer, nothing but static.  There were a hundred explanations, but none of them reassured Starsky.  

     He was in the elevator, the doors just closing, when the radio abruptly came to life.  "Starsk?"  The voice was strained, but unmistakably his partner's.  He was just about to answer when it continued.  "I'm in 636... checkin' a report... 'was attacked... Help, please... Starsk... I need..."  The voice, weakening with each word, now disappeared altogether.  This was a slight _thump_ in the background, then silence, not even static.  

     "Hutch?  Hutch!"  Starsky had punched the sixth floor button at the first few words, but now frantically worked on the radio, trying to get some response again.  Worry choked his voice, "Are you there?  Talk to me!  Hutch!"

     Nothing.

     The elevator finally reached the sixth floor, and Starsky squeezed out the doors as soon as he could fit through them, taking off down the hallway, almost running down several people in his haste.  He skidded passed the room in his haste, grabbing the doorjamb to stop himself.  To his relief, the door wasn't locked and he burst in at once.

     The sight that greeted him chilled his blood.  Nearly at his feet lay a vaguely familiar man, probably one of the men he'd questioned in connection with the murder.  The man appeared to be unconscious, but Starsky didn't pause to look.  He hurdled the body and dropped down instead next to the one a few feet away from it, also sprawled face-down on the floor.  The blond hair was already damp with the sweat of shock, breathing labored and the little bit of face showing, pale and still.  Hutch's back was what drew Starsky's eyes, though, a ragged tear in the shirt surrounded by bright red which spread down his side to the floor, staining the still hand that lay there.  "Oh, God.  Hutch!" Starsky moaned, immediately pulling his jacket off and wadding it up to put pressure on the wound.  He felt for a pulse, his eyes blurring at the too-fast beat, then jerked the radio out and called for help and an ambulance. Having done what he could, he sank down to both knees and brushed the wet strands out of the other's face so he could see it.  "Hutch," he whispered despairingly.

     There was a slight moan and the blond head stirred.  Starsky immediately bent down, resting his hand firmly on the other's hair to keep him from moving.  "Hutch, it's okay.  I'm right here.  It's okay now.  Just relax."  He didn't even know what he was saying. 

     Eyelashes fluttered and dazed blue eyes opened to try and look at him.  "Starsk?"  The whisper took effort.  "Trap..."

     "I know, babe," Starsky said.  "It's okay, I got him."  He glanced up at the other man, who hadn't moved a muscle since Starsky had gotten there.  He was amazed that Hutch could've dispatched the guy so thoroughly when he must've already been injured.  Starsky turned his attention back to his partner, who was stirring weakly.  "Just take it easy," he pleaded.

     The slightest nod.  "You're here... okay.  'M tired."  The washed-out eyes slowly shut again, breath deepening a little.  

     Starsky sat bleakly, watching the slight rise and fall of the other's back, feeling the blood that had soaked through the thin jacket he was using for a bandage.  First Nick, then Hutch.  For once, he had no idea what to do next, and no partner to lean on for help.  Feeling cold and very alone, he began to pray.

     He stood, motionless, still watching his partner breathe in and out, when Dobey came up next to him.  Together they stood in the hospital hallway, looking through the window at the bandaged form within.  After a moment, Dobey turned to him.

     "Doctor says he'll be fine, Starsky.  You can stop worrying."

     The brunet sighed heavily.  "I know, Cap'n.  Just too close..."  His eyes hadn't moved from the window.

     Dobey shifted uneasily.  "Hutch'll be fine.  That call from your brother could come through anytime; we should get back to the station."

     "No."  

     The captain's eyes narrowed at the flat tone.  "Starsky, staying here won't help Hutch.  He probably won't even be awake until tomorrow or Monday." 

     "I know."  Starsky finally turned to look at Dobey.  "I'm not stayin' here.  I gotta talk to the guy who got to Hutch, and then I have t'get back to the hotel."  His face had clouded for a moment at the mention of his partner, but now his gaze was steady.  "Now that Hutch is down, I have t'be there to run the show."

     Dobey smiled.  "Now, I think we can find someone else to do that, Starsky.  Your brother–"

     "Is one person.  There are over 1,000 delegates I'm responsible for, Cap'n.  Me and Hutch.  I can't leave now."

     The captain's face was troubled.  "Starsky, I could order you to–"

     "To what, Cap'n?"  Starsky's voice was soft but strained.  "Not do my duty?  Cap'n, something's goin' on.  Hutch wasn't attacked for nothin', Teller wasn't just some random victim, and Nicky didn't disappear on his own.  You pull me off now and they might just get away with it.  I'm the best person for that job and you know it.  You put someone else in there now, cold, and you're riskin' everyone at that convention."  
     Dobey didn't need to think about that to know he was right.  But the decision troubled him; no man should have to risk his loved ones for his obligation to duty.  Though he suspected Starsky and Hutch were very familiar with that feeling already.  If Starsky was determined to do his duty, Dobey had no right to keep him from it.  He nodded.  "Okay, after you finish your interrogation, get back to the hotel.  I'll have the call patched through when it comes in."

     Starsky gave him a shadow of a smile, then, giving his partner one last long look, walked away.  

     Dobey could almost see the weight of the world on his shoulders as he went.

     Starsky sighed, rubbing his eyes tiredly.  It was a weakness he hadn't allowed himself to show the perp, but now, outside the interrogation room, he leaned against the wall in exhaustion.  Dobey had sent a uniform along for the questioning, probably to make sure Starsky didn't throttle the guy, but it had been unnecessary.  He was too tired to be enraged, and he doubted it would have done much good.  The guy was no amateur, and while Starsky was convinced he hadn't been acting alone, the detective couldn't shake him in the slightest.  He'd tried every trick he'd known, but most of them were duets and Starsky was soloing.  The only thing he'd been able to put together was that the man's name was Theodore Andor, and that he had come as a member of the New York delegation.  Nicky's delegation.  A lot of interesting pieces, but they just weren't fitting properly.  It made sense that the threats against Chicago were coming from New York, but then why kill a low-level aide like Teller?  And why kidnap Nicky?  Had his brother somehow caught on to them?  And was Hutch just getting in the way?  It seemed like the more he looked, the more questions he found instead of answers. 

     The paperwork could wait; Andor wasn't going anywhere.  Starsky gave a few instructions to the cop outside the room and then, bracing himself, went to find a private phone for one more thing he needed to take care of.

     "Hello, Ma?"

     "David?!"  

     The warmth of his mother's voice always made Starsky smile.  "Yeah, Ma, it's me."

     She must have caught something in his voice, or the fact that he was calling for the second time in two days.  "David, what's wrong?"

     "Ma... Did you know that Nicky was out here?"  That seemed a safe enough place to start. 

     "No!  That's wonderful!  I know he's missed seeing you, but he's been so busy with this new job of his, and sometimes he has to go away...  Is he there with you now?"  She sounded so hopeful, Starsky had to swallow before answering.

     "No, Ma, he's not.  There's a... problem."

     There was a pause.  Then, quickly, "Oh, God, please.  David, don't tell me he's-"

     "I'm sure he's fine, Ma," Starsky quickly cut in.  "I just talked to him a couple hours ago.  But he's missing and we think he mighta been... kidnapped."

     Her voice, when it returned, was trembling.  "Kidnapped?  But why?  David, who would do something like that?"

     Starsky was doing his best to remain calm, himself.  He wished again as countless times before that his partner was there to provide badly-needed support.  "I don't know, Ma, but they're workin' on it.  And Nick said he'd call again."

     "They?  You're going to find him, aren't you, David?  Promise me you're looking for him every minute."  Her voice was steadier now, hushed.

     Starsky gripped the phone tighter.  "Ma... Hutch's hurt.  He's gonna be okay but he's in the hospital.  And there's this big union convention in town now, and Hutch and I did the arrangements for the security, so I gotta be there for that.  If I don't, something even bigger, a lot worse, could happen."

     Rachel Starsky sounded incredulous.  "You're not looking for your own brother?  David, someone else can take care of that policework, but no one else may be able to find Nicholas.  Please, promise me you'll look for him."

     Starsky squeezed his eyes shut.  "Ma, I can't promise.  I'll do everything I can, but I can't leave the security detail.  It's very important.  I have an obligation–"

     Her voice sounded anguished now.  "Obligation?  What about your obligation to your family!  Davey, please, you're out there now and he's all I have here.  Please, find him for me.  Please.  Promise me you'll do it."

     "I can't."  His voice broke on the words.  Like his heart.

     A stifled sob sounded over the line, then a moment of silence.  When his mother spoke again, it was with a coldness he'd never heard her use with him before.  "If you don't find Nicky, and he dies, it will be your fault, David.  I'll never forgive you for that."  

     Dimly, he thought it sounded like one of those ancient curses.  He felt cursed.  He tried to think of some response, but nothing came.  But it was a moot point; the next moment, the dial tone returned.  She'd hung up on him.

     He blinked a few times, then slowly put down the telephone.  He felt eight years old again, mourning the loss of a parent, wanting to cry but not allowing himself to give in.  Then, as now, there was no one to comfort him.  After a few minutes, he gathered himself together, put on his sunglasses, and left the small room and its one telephone.

     "Sergeant Starsky?"

     The voice made Starsky turn, and he tried to place the name of the young cop.  It didn't come to him.  He sighed.  "Yeah?"

     "There's a phone call for you.  Captain Dobey says he's patching it through."

     Anticipation and dread made him shiver.  He'd waited all day, tense and worried, for Nick to call, and as day slipped into night, he'd not been able to sleep, either, but no call came in.  He'd about given up hope for it.  "I'll take it in the security suite," he said more calmly than he felt.

     The suite was just one floor away from the ballroom that a meeting was going on in and that Starsky had been coordinating security outside of, and it only took him a minute to race up the steps, afraid that each second would be too long and that the callers would get impatient and hang up.  And then he'd lose Nicky.

     Not pausing to shut the door behind him, he ran into the security suite and grabbed the phone.

     "Starsky."

     "It's me, David."

     Starsky collapsed behind the desk, trying to catch his breath.  "Nick, where are you?" he tried desperately.

     "That's why I'm calling.  I had to leave before they got me, and now I'm in a little place outside of town.  If you come meet me, I'll tell you everything you want to know."

     The words were stilted and flat, as if being read.  Starsky's mouth settled in a grim line.  He had no idea why they wanted to make it seem as though Nicky had run off on his own, or that he was perhaps responsible for the murder, but they weren't doing a very good job of it.  Starsky had no doubts that his brother was being held against his will.  But if this was their game, he'd play along.  "Where and when?"

     Nick rattled off some directions that Starsky realized put him in Santa Clarita, about an hour away.  The time caught his attention, though - 4:30.  A half-an-hour before the main vote that Starsky was putting triple security on, the one that included the crucial New York resolution.  One more piece fit into place; they clearly wanted him out of the way so they could make their move, which gave him the when, but still not the who.  

     "Okay," he said shortly when Nick was done, and a click told him it was the end of the conversation.  Seemed as though everyone was hanging up on him these days.  

     Hanging up the phone, he sank back in the chair.  There was no way he could leave the hotel and go to the meet, not unless he wanted to play into their hands.  Someone would go out, probably some uniforms Dobey trusted, but whoever was the inside man on this job would know that Starsky wasn't biting, and that would make Nicky useless.  Expendable.  Starsky drew a shuddering breath.  There was just no way out.  Slowly, he reached for the telephone.  

     Dobey walked down the hospital corridor, deep in thought.  He hadn't liked at all the way his phone conversation with Starsky had just gone.  He'd been patched through to Dobey while the captain was in the car, and had relayed the body of the message Nick had given him.  But despite Dobey's repeated attempts to again relieve Starsky to go save his brother, the man had refused.  Dobey wondered if he could make the same choice in Starsky's place.  If it were Edith's life, or one of his own brothers'... he doubted it.  Add to that going solo and being worried about Hutch, and Starsky was dangerously close to the edge.  If things turned sour, the captain wasn't sure how he'd survive it.

     The captain opened the door quietly, surprised to find the patient half-sitting and alert.

     "Hutchinson!  You're looking better," he pursed his lips, trying not to smile.

     The blond had no such hesitancy.  "Cap'n," he grinned.  "How's it going?"  He peered around his boss.  "Where's Starsky?" he added curiously.

     Dobey's smile disappeared at the question.  "Your partner's at the hotel.  The vote's coming up in three hours and he's getting ready."

     Hutch settled back; that made sense although he'd missed Starsky being there when he'd first woken up.  The pretty nurse who filled in instead just wasn't the same.  But looking closely at Dobey, Hutch could see there was more.  He inclined his head questioningly.  "And...?" he prompted.

     The captain sighed.  "Nick's called twice, wanting Starsky to go meet him out in Santa Clarita.  Your partner's sure he's being held against his will and that if Starsky doesn't go meet him, he'll be killed."

     That prompted a thoughtful pause.  Hutch rested his head back on the pillow with a frown.  "Well, I'm not happy about him going in without me backing him up, but if he takes someone else along–"

     "He's not going," Dobey cut him off.

     "What?!  Why not?"  Hutch nearly sat up, wincing.

     The captain made a frustrated gesture.  "With you here he says he needs to stay and look after the security details.  I've tried to talk him out of it, but your partner's got a stubborn streak."

     "Yeah...," Hutch agreed distractedly, frowning.  Abruptly, he began slowly and deliberately swinging his legs over the side of the bed as he pushed himself up.

     The captain scowled.  "What are you doing?  Hutchinson, get back in that bed."

     Hutch shook his head, paling as he eased himself to his feet but managing to stay steady.  "Cap'n, I have to go.  Starsky won't leave if I'm not there and if he doesn't go, his brother's liable to get killed.  I don't think he or I can live with that."  He determinedly made his way to the closet, hanging on to convenient furniture as he walked.    

     Dobey wasn't going for it.  "Hutch–"

     "Look, Cap'n, I'm sure Starsky's got all the security details worked out.  I'll go relieve him and then put my feet up somewhere and supervise, okay?  I promise I'll be good," he added with a slight smile.

     The captain grimaced.  He doubted his idea of 'good' matched Hutch's.  "I don't like this, but... I'll go talk to the doctor."  He cut off Hutch's appreciation with a warning finger.  "As soon as your partner's gone, though, I want you off your feet!  I don't need a detective who's going to fall over at any moment."  

     Hutch smiled at him once more before disappearing into the bathroom, getting the last word in in his own way.  Dobey shook his head.  " _Besides, your partner'll kill me if I let_ you _get hurt again,_ " he gruffed under his breath as he went out the door in search of the doctor.    

     Starsky studied the plans carefully.  He and Hutch had them nearly memorized, but he'd marked in a few last minute additions and extra people to cover the Chicago group, and had just finished distributing assignments to the group of plainclothes and uniformed policemen assigned to him.  Now it was just hurry up and wait while he went around to check the set-up one more time.  He was just about to leave to do just that when a familiar voice spoke up behind him.  

     "Hey, you got something for me to do, too?"

     Starsky spun around, eyes wide, to take in the sight of his grinning partner, upright and apparently fit.  "Hutch!"  His eyes went wide with disbelief.  "What're you doin'... I mean... Hey, you're not supposed to be up."  He glared accusingly at Dobey who stood off to one side.  

     Hutch tilted his head.  "And I thought you'd be happy to see me."  
     "I am!  I mean, sure, but you sure you're all right?  Did the doctor let you out?"  Confusion mixed with joy made his words trip over each other.  

     Hutch's grin widened.  "I'm fine."  He nodded to his left.  "Cap'n said I could come back, so here I am.  Why don't I cover things here and you go meet your brother?"

     Dobey spoke up firmly.  "I've certified him for duty, Starsky."

     Suspicion registered in Starsky's face but he couldn't see any reason not to go.  Hutch was still pale, but the doctor had said that the injury had not caused severe damage and blood loss had been the greatest danger.  The blond looked able enough and Dobey had cleared him.  The chance to go after his brother pulled at Starsky, but he wasn't fully convinced.  Stepping up close enough to rest a hand on Hutch's shoulder, he studied the sky blue eyes.  "You had me pretty scared yesterday, Hutch," he said seriously.  "I think ya oughta take it easy for a while."

     There was only so much they could fool each other.  Hutch grew serious, too, placing his hand on Starsky's arm.  "I can handle this, Starsk.  Go on, your brother needs you."

     Starsky slowly nodded, a little of the anxiety clearing from his face.  He squeezed Hutch's shoulder hard, closing his eyes for a moment to gather his thoughts as he felt Hutch rub along his arm, silently acknowledging Starsky's anxiety.  He'd missed that calm reassurance.  

     "It'll be okay," Hutch said softly.

     Starsky opened his eyes and nodded again, pushing the sheaf of papers into Hutch's hand.  "It's all here, you want me to go over it with you?"

     Hutch glanced through the plans, shaking his head.  "No, I remember most of it and I can figure out the rest."  He looked up at his partner and smiled.  "Go on, I can handle it."

     Starsky traded one last look with him before rushing off. 

     Hutch watched him go for a long moment, lost in thought.  He was interrupted by a quiet, "Sir?", and turned back to find several policemen looking at him.  His back throbbed relentlessly, threatening to turn his knees to jelly, and he allowed himself to sink down in the chair next to him.  He could sense Dobey watching him from behind, talking quietly to someone as he waited for Hutch to cede control of the operation to the captain.  "Detective Starsky gave you all your assignments already, right?" Hutch asked the policemen.  All the heads nodded.  "All right, go to it then and you'll be reporting in to–"

     A touch on his shoulder interrupted him, and he turned as much as he was able to look at Dobey, who leaned down next to him.

     "Starsky's background check on the guy who attacked you just came in," the captain said _sotto voce_.  "He was hired only a week before the convention to provide security for the convention.  So were three other members of the group here from New York."

     Hutch stared back at him for a moment, then turned back to dismiss the men waiting on him.  Dobey came around and sat down in a chair in front of the desk.  Hutch was silent for a moment, face drawn in thought.  "Cap'n, that doesn't make sense.  If they wanted to stop Chicago from fighting the resolution on the floor, why would they join the New York party?  It'd just make them more suspect, and it wouldn't help them get any closer to the Chicago rep.  They should've joined the Chicago party if they wanted to..."  His voice trailed away as a new thought occurred to him and his mouth fell open a little.  "Unless they're not trying to kill the Chicago representative!" he exclaimed.

     Dobey looked confused.

     "Don't you see?" Hutch continued excitedly, sitting up.  "What if they really are against the New York resolution.  If they killed the Chicago representative, that wouldn't stop anything.  The vice-rep would just take his place in the vote, and there'd probably be a backlash against New York.  If anything, it would hurt their cause!"

     Dobey still looked confused.  "Then who...?"

     "Whose death would arouse the most sympathy for the resolution, convince most people that if this was a cause worth dying for, it was worth voting for?"

     The light began to dawn.  "New York," Dobey breathed, understanding.

     "Exactly!" Hutch gestured animatedly.  "I'll bet you a week's pay if we stay on the New York representative, we'll catch our killers."

     The captain was smiling.  "Get on it," he ordered, standing up.  Then he frowned, watching as Hutch pushed himself upright with difficulty.  "Hutch, maybe you should get Bonhomme to handle this.  You've done good work, I'm sure he can take it from here."

     Hutch shook his head determinedly.  "Uh-uh, Cap'n, this one's mine.  I'll be okay," he assured, then left before Dobey could argue with him.

     Frowning, the captain followed.  Someone had to be around to catch him when he fell, and Starsky was occupied elsewhere.

     It was still nearly two hours before the meet, but Starsky wanted to show up early.  With Hutch back on the scene, he'd hoped things would be muddled enough that they wouldn't expect him early and he could catch them off-guard.  For Nicky's sake, he hoped so.

     The meet was to be on an old road off the interstate, at a deserted house.  There were some trees in the area, too sparse to provide cover to a back-up team, but enough to hide one man if he was careful.  Starsky parked his car over a mile away and set off on foot, slipping through the meager cover as best he could.  And heartily wishing every step he had a partner backing him up.  At least Hutch was back at the hotel, taking care of that end so Starsky could put it out of his mind and quit worrying about it.  He focused now solely on Nicky.  

     The house finally came into sight, a single guard outside keeping watch.  Starsky wondered abruptly if they even cared about whether the Starskys made it out alive or not, wanting only to get the detective out of the way for a while so they could act back at the convention.  Not like it would help them much; Starsky had the Chicago delegate under heavy round-the-clock protection.  There was no way they'd slip past that unless...  Starsky's step faltered for a moment as he finished the thought.  Unless they weren't after the Chicago delegate.  After all, killing him wouldn't be of much help.  The Chicago team would still vote against the resolution and the sentiment against the killing would only help the New York party.  Starsky considered turning back for a moment to radio the local police station and ask them to relay that idea back to Hutch, but he abandoned the idea almost as quickly.  There just wouldn't be enough time, and Hutch was a darned good cop.  He'd work it out himself.  Contented with the thought, Starsky turned his attention back to the house and, after a few moments' silent planning, acted.

     Sneaking around to the back wasn't as hard as he'd anticipated, probably because the guard was lazily watching only the one road into the place.  _Sloppy,_ Starsky chided to himself.  It was becoming increasingly obvious that this part of the killers' plan was only distraction and never minutely planned.  For all Starsky knew, if he'd have showed up on time, they would've just given him Nick and let him leave again.  But he couldn't take that chance.

     From the back, Starsky slipped around the side of the building toward the front corner of the porch, waiting a few long moments until the guard was completely turned away from the detective.  Then Starsky rushed him, hooking an arm around the other man's throat before he had a chance to make a sound.

     "You get one answer, buddy.  How many of your pals in the house?" he hissed, not letting up on his hold.  

     The guard slowly raised a hand, two fingers extended.  

     "Two?  Good.  Okay, I'm gonna ease off and you're gonna call 'em out here, you got it?  And you do anythin' funny and your Mama's gonna get you back in a pine box."  Starsky pulled him around until he was off to one side and out of sight from the single window but still had a clear shot of the door.  Then, gun drawn, he loosened his grip on the other man.

     Clearing his throat a little, the guard called out loudly, "Hey, Nash, Faulkner.  Gimme a hand a minute."

     Several seconds passed, then the door opened and first one, then another man stepped out onto the porch, only one carrying a gun.  "What's going–" the first began before catching sight of Starsky and the Beretta pointed at them.  Slowly, both sets of hands rose.  

     Three minutes later, three men were all secured around the trunks of various trees and Starsky, holstering his gun, rushed into the house, afraid of what he'd see.  He nearly sagged against the wall at the sight of his brother sitting, bound and blindfolded but apparently safe, on the floor against the far wall.  "Nick?" he said shakily.

     The dark head turned blindly toward him.  "Dave?"  The fear in his voice reminded Starsky abruptly of stormy nights many years before when that same voice would come to him, climbing into bed with him, seeking comfort.  Many years and a lifetime of experience ago.  But it was still the same voice, the same person, and his little brother.  "Yeah, it's me," Starsky whispered, hurrying forward to untie Nick.  Once the ropes came off, he suddenly pulled his brother into an embrace that the younger man willingly reciprocated.  "You okay?" Starsky asked, words muffled in the other's shoulder.

     A nod, then Nicky pulled back a little awkwardly.  "Thanks," he said quietly.

     Starsky smiled at him as he stood to pull his brother up on his feet.  "What are brothers for?"

     Hutch's thoughts flashed once more to Starsky and Nick, wondering if they were okay.  But he didn't have time to dwell on his worries, even as they never left the back of his mind.  The vote was only half-an-hour off and the delegations were beginning to collect in the high-ceilinged atrium outside the conference room, waiting to go in and take their seats.  As the New York group came in, Hutch whispered a few words into the radio, then flicked a finger at a plainclothes cop across the room.  The man nodded, moving over into a better position.

     Hutch quickly counted the party and came up one short.  Frowning, he spoke again briefly into the radio to the two men he was coordinating on the floor above, then shifted impatiently to wait.  The movement sent yet another wave of pain and weakness through him, forcing him to grit his teeth as he waited it out.  He knew perfectly well he shouldn't be up yet, but there was no way he was going to leave this now.  Not when they were so close to catching the guys who had attacked him and put Starsky through hell over his brother.  Not with so much riding on it.  He leaned heavily against the wall to one side of him, hoping it would support him long enough that he could stay on his feet until the whole thing was over, and turned his concentration back to the delegates.

     With practiced alertness, he scanned the whole group, keeping his eyes open for trouble and any sign that he was wrong and it was from some other group that the attack would come.  But he was certain he wasn't wrong, it just felt right.  

     The giveaway was so slight, he almost missed it.  In the dark shadows of a small alcove one floor up that housed a piece of sculpture, there gleamed for a moment the reflection of light from glass.  Like from a gun scope.  Hutch couldn't see anything more than that, but he knew that was it.  He yelled into the radio even as he began to move, running toward the target, several other plainclothes cops positioned around the room racing to follow him.  

     The rest was over in a very few, long seconds.  

     The sound of a gunshot reverberated around the room, but as Hutch anxiously got closer, he could see the delegate from New York seemed unhurt.  Two of his security detail immediately took him by the arm and began leading him to one side, flanking him protectively as the remaining security men sought the source of the danger.  Hutch recognized the two guiding the delegate, and, catching the attention of one of his men, motioned toward the disappearing trio.

     He pushed his way through the throng, ignoring the jostling and poking his back received, concentration wholly centered on the three men who were his objective.  Behind him, he could hear the policeman also pushing his way through, and then they were both clear and heading for the door.  

     Hutch slammed through the doorway just in time to see one of the security men turning a gun on the representative.  At the sound of Hutch's approach, the gun veered toward the detective instead.  

     Hutch dove to one side, nearly blacking out from the jolt of the landing, but the bullet hit the wall harmlessly next to him.  He tried to bring up his gun to fire, but it was an effort and he moved clumsily.  He was aware even as he aimed that the gun trained on him was re-aiming at him and the other man was pulling his out, and this time there was no place to hide.

     All of the sudden, the cop was there next to him, gun drawn, his shot preceding Hutch's by a split second.  

     It was all over.

     Hutch stared at the cop for a moment, who grinned shakily back at him, then helped him get to his feet.  The blond leaned against the wall and tried to catch his breath and control searing pain as he watched the plainclothesman move down the hall.  Murtaugh, he filed the name away.  He'd have to remember to commend the man to Dobey.  He watched as the black cop ably cuffed one downed suspect and covered the other before standing to speak to the shocked delegate.

     Hutch pushed himself up and stumbled back to the center room, pressing a hand to his back.  The confusion of people blurred in front of his eyes as he tried to make out his men among the crowd, vaguely wondering what exactly had happened.  Pulling his hand back, he glanced at it, noting with dispassion that it was covered in blood, though he couldn't seem to figure out why.  He didn't even notice as he began sliding down the wall.  

     Someone grabbed at him, then an arm slipped around his shoulders to ease him down onto the ground.  "I told you ya shouldn't be up yet," a voice gently chided in his ear, sounding not the least bit reproving.    

     His eyes were too heavy to open now, but he didn't need to.  "Starsky," he murmured, smiling.  Then he drifted off to the scent of the leather his face rested against.

     This time, he wasn't alone when he awoke.  He hadn't been on his initial reawakening, either, or the two other times since then: Starsky was apparently spending all his time either at the hospital or with his brother as Hutch convalesced and Nick prepared to leave, and always seemed to be around when Hutch was conscious.  The drugs and exhaustion made conversation difficult, though, and their visits thus far had mostly consisted of a few soothing words from his partner for Hutch's sake, and a squeeze of the hand back from him for Starsky's sake.  

     This time, though, his head was clearer as he rose into wakefulness.  It only took a moment of concentration for his vision to focus on the form at the window facing away from him.

     "Starsk?"  It was hard to talk past the cottony dryness in his mouth.  

     The other turned at once, face brightening at seeing him awake.  Then, as though reading his mind, Starsky stepped up beside the bed and poured him a glass of water, helping him raise his head to drink it.  "Better?" he said softly after Hutch drained the cup.

     Hutch nodded.  "You?" he managed.  With new awareness, he studied his friend's face.  The lines of fatigue were still there, but the strain of before was gone.

     That self-conscious grin he was so fond of appeared.  "Yeah, I'm okay," Starsky nodded.  "Just put Nicky on the plane this morning.  We were up all night talkin'."

     Hutch listened, silently encouraging the other to continue.  

     Starsky sat down in the chair next to the bed, leaning his head back to look at the ceiling.  "It hasn't been easy for him, either, Hutch.  I think he was just as mad at me for leaving as I was at him for bein' allowed to stay after Pop got killed."  He rolled his head to one side just enough to look at his friend.  "You know, I think I just reminded Ma too much of Pop.  I kinda lost it when he got killed, y'know, got pretty wild, runnin' around with gangs, and it was a good excuse to send me away so it wouldn't hurt her so much t'see me all the time."  

     Hutch didn't say anything; some of that wasn't news to him, and the rest he didn't understand, but he could slow Starsky down later to get the details.

     "Nick was her baby, and I guess I always held it against him that she kept him and sent me away."

     "She loves you, too, Starsk." Hutch said.  From the little he'd talked with Rachel Starsky, he had no doubts about that.

     Starsky's eyes were back on the ceiling.  "I know.  Maybe not as much as him, but I guess I always knew that."  Her words to him the night before were still fresh in his mind.  _Davela, you were my firstborn and your father's son.  You protected your family today like the head of the household.  I'm so proud of you - and your father would be, too._ He sighed, then smiled.  "Nick's gonna come back again in a few years.  Think he's got some growin' up to do first, but he's workin' on it."

     Hutch smiled, too, even though Starsky wasn't looking at him.  Years of hurt obviously couldn't be fixed in a weekend, but he had confidence the Starskys had made a start.  And he was there now to be family for Starsky when his own couldn't be.  

     A comfortable silence fell, and Hutch almost drifted back off to sleep with it, but a lot of unanswered questions still bothered him.

     "Ryan's puttin' a commendation in our files," Starsky abruptly spoke up, again answering his unspoken thought.  "Says we did good work, which I think is all we're gonna get from him.  Dobey looks happy, though.  You wanna hear about it?"

     Hutch nodded, and for the next several minutes was treated to a complicated tale of a syndicate block that would've been greatly helped by the New York Resolution and therefore infiltrated the New York delegation to assassinate the New York representative, thus casting blame on the detractors of the resolution and provoking sympathy for it.  The first murder had been an unfortunate result of someone who knew too much, and when Nick's connection to one of the security heads for the convention was revealed, it became convenient to both cast suspicion elsewhere and use him to get Starsky out of the way.  The attack on Hutch was supposed to do the same with the blond, although no one had counted on him surviving the ambush or catching his attacker.  Andor, not surprisingly, had been found dead in his cell.  But their plan still intact, one the three remaining infiltrators had set up in the alcove above the room, intending to shoot the New York representative, until Hutch had seen him and alerted the cops on that floor, who jumped the man just in time to send his shot wild.  In the ensuing confusion, the two assassins would have killed the delegate except for Hutch's timely arrival.  

     "So you're the hero of the hour, partner," Starsky finished up happily, now sitting on the edge of the bed.  

     "Uh-uh," Hutch said sleepily.  "We are."  The long talk had exhausted him, but he looked at Starsky determinedly.  "I wasn't alone."

     Starsky flushed, nodded.  "So get some rest," he leaned closer.  "I need ya out there with me." 

     Hutch didn't have the energy or desire to argue.  He sank back under, warm contentment his last awareness.

     "That goes for you, too, Starsky," Dobey's voice came from the door, quiet but severe.

     Starsky looked up in surprise, wondering how long the captain had been there, then decided it didn't matter.  Though he frowned at the command.  "But, Cap'n–"

     "No buts," the black man growled.  "Your brother's gone, Hutchinson's resting fine.  You want to be fit for duty when he gets back, don't you?"

     It was the right thing to say.  Starsky meekly got up and went.  Dobey followed him down and saw him off, smiling to himself as the Torino pulled away and turned toward Westchester.  A job well done, everyone safe, and, for once, he'd even gotten the last word.  It was a beautiful start to the week!  Whistling to himself, Dobey went off to find his car.


End file.
